


Out of Place

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Autism, Fluff, Gen, M/M, autistic!brian, platonic maylor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 20:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18818374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: It wasn’t anything the others did, really. They were so accepting and accommodating of him. But at the end of the day, Freddie, Roger and John acted, talked and breathed like the allistics they were while Brian was..well, his autistic self. A sore thumb, not always getting jokes or understanding stories. He wrinkled his nose at the alcohol they drank like water (its taste was ovewhelming) and couldn’t stand the crowds at the parties they thrived in. It was confusing and hard.





	Out of Place

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: autistic!Brian feeling super out of place one day in the middle of hanging out with the Queen boys, and the other three comforting him and telling him that there is no reason to feel like that. He is a part of Queen, regardless of him being the only member who is autistic. (maybe some maylor included? please?)

“Oh, fuck off,” Roger said, eyebrows furrowed but he was only joking. Well, at least, that was what Brian thought he was doing.

John let out a big and brave guffaw before immediately shrinking down and running away from the drummer, who looked like he was itching to give him a noogie. Freddie laughed at the two youngest, sipping more of his wine and occasionally swatting at Roger or John to settle down before an actual fight broke out.

And then there was Brian.

They were winding down from a long day of recording, drinking and lazing around a nearly abandoned bar. They had nearly the whole establishment to walk around and goof off and let out some steam but only 3 of them took advantage of that.

Brian awkwardly sat a stool by the bar, looking at the others. He’d laugh here and there but that was it. 

It wasn’t always like this. Sometimes it felt easy to just melt into the flow of things and get involved in Queen shenanigans, but other times, he felt like there was a wall.

It wasn’t anything the others did, really. They were so accepting and accommodating of him. But at the end of the day, Freddie, Roger and John acted, talked and breathed like the allistics they were while Brian was..well, his autistic self. A sore thumb, not always getting jokes or understanding stories. He wrinkled his nose at the alcohol they drank like water (its taste was ovewhelming) and couldn’t stand the crowds at the parties they thrived in. It was confusing and hard.

He felt alone sometimes. Excluded. Even when it was just the 4 of them. Even when they tried hard to include him.

Brian’s eyes fell downcast, his gaze shifting to the half drunk flute of champagne in his hands, the only alcohol he could just barely tolerate. He listened to the others chuckle and scream but they felt miles away- no- he felt miles away.

He set the glass down and hunched over himself, hands in his lap. He flicked his fingers for a bit in his lap, watching the way his digits moved, but he didn’t feel any better. 

Maybe he should leave. At least he enjoyed the company of himself. He never had to worry if he was being weird or out of sync. 

He stood up, placing a tip on the bar before he walked over to the others. “I’m going home now,” he said, eyes on the scratched wood floor, a hand in his pocket. 

“You haven’t gotten your noogie yet,” John said with a playful frown, his hair incredibly mussed up. Oblivious.

Freddie put on a real frown, standing up with a wooble. “Why are you turning in so early, darling? Are you well?” he asked, approaching the guitarist on unsteady feet. Brian put on a curt smile, nodding slightly. His fingers found themselves playing with his curls.

“Am fine,” he said, wanting to just leave. His chest felt very light and heavy at the same time. Sleep helped.

“Wanna sleep,” he added, hoping it’d convince the drunk Freddie to sit back down and enjoy the company of his friends. It was something Brian apparently couldn’t do. 

And it worked. Heavy lidded, Freddie murmured something about not letting the bed bugs bite before he draped himself back over the booth.

Brian thought he was in the clear, but he should’ve known better. Drunk or not, Roger was the sharpest of them all. Quicker than a whip, the blond stood up, eyes narrowing. 

“I’ll walk you out, then,” was all Roger said. Brian couldn’t decipher the tone of his voice or the face he had on so he got nervous. Was Roger being nice or was he going to get teased for leaving early?

The two walked outside, Roger taking in a deep breath of the night air, clearly the burning in his chest and stomach. The stood side by side in silence for a moment, Brian wondering if he should keep walking to go home. Roger hadn’t said goodbye yet…was he supposed to say it first?

Before he could try a farewell, Roger turned to him, blue eyes probing. “What’s wrong, mate?” he asked. A sharp feeling settled in Brian’s gut.

“Nothing. Tired,” he replied, his fingers pulling on his curls. 

A twinge of a smile pulled on Roger’s lips. Brian was really bad at reading subtle facial expressions, but he had an inkling of what Roger was going to say.

“I don’t believe that, Bri, you know?” he said. Bri shrunk, his suspicions confirmed.

Roger was his best friend. The one person he could go to for anything. Just not this. It was too hard to explain and most of all, it was embarrassing.  _I’m too autistic to hang out with you guys_. Really? It was pathetic. Brian made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat.

Roger took that as an admission of guilt and continued. “You can tell me what’s bothering you. Are we being too loud? We can be quiet drunks…when we try…” he said, bumping his elbow into Brian’s side.

Brian appreciated the effort. Roger was the most understanding of the group, always trying to figure out ways to make Brian comfortable. This time there wasn’t much that could be done. It was a him issue. But Roger had a way of making Brian spill his secrets. After a few more pokes and nudges from the other, Brian couldn’t help but to let everything out. 

“I uh. Feel..out of place? With you guys. Um. You guys are all, uh, well, normal, I think. And I’m. I’m me, y’know? I don’t get things and, mh, uh, yeah. It’s bad. A bad feeling,” Brian spluttered, stammered and stuttered out, all while rubbing his fingers into his palm.

Roger stays quiet for a long time, his face pensive, a face Brian taught the meaning to himself. Brian grew anxious though. He wasn’t sure how Roger would take the revelation, but it obviously wasn’t good because of the silence, right?

Roger’s eyelids fluttered, words forming in his mouth before he let them out, slowly and well thought out.

“I’m sorry we’ve been bad friends then. You shouldn’t ever feel left out. You shouldn’t feel like there’s a communication barrier between us and you,” he said, a calloused hand holding onto a jittering hand of the guitarist. 

“Brian, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not your fault you’re feeling that. Yeah? I think we sometimes get lost in our own little worlds but it won’t happen again. You won’t feel alone again, okay?” Roger finished, giving Brian’s hand a squeeze. 

It was very lovely what Roger had said, but all he found himself replying with is, “But how?”

Roger grinned, head cocking to the side. “I’ll show you,”

♚

John, the  ~~King~~ Queen of sass was first to tap out by falling asleep.

“I keep saying things,” he slurred before he passed out, the first victim of Roger’s new game.

The rules were simple. If you say something Brian doesn’t understand, a metaphor or saying, whatever, you take a shot. For being made on the fly, it wasn’t too shabby. 

And funny enough, Brian loved it. He thought he’d hate it, but he was laughing so hard the entire time, he was crying. Crying laughing! 

They all sat on the floor of the bar, the bar tender not giving a shit since their tab was in the triple digits, and they all talked, Brian especially. They laughed and threw back the most bitter shots and giggled and snorted and slapped each other and Brian’s cheeks hurt so much from smiling. 

It was, of course, the first initiative in getting Brian to feel at home with the rest of them. And it was a really good first step. 

From their, they invented more games and read up on Autism and talked to Brian about how best to make him feel included. And the other 3 never so much as groaned about it. Brian was an important and valued member of Queen. He was their family. They would do anything to make sure he was not only accommodated but thriving. Those are two different concepts people don’t think about and for a time, they didn’t either.

Now, Brian would be the first to strike up a conversation and have no qualms about inviting the others over to his house for a night of chatting and drinking (he drinks cranberry juice because it tastes bad like alcohol but doesn’t make him feel woozy). He finally feels like Queen is his home. All because of one night, sitting on splintered wood, John conked out, Freddie struggling to keep himself sitting upright and Roger who never took his eyes off of him once.


End file.
